


Domesticity

by eggnogged



Category: Nathan Barley (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggnogged/pseuds/eggnogged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four snapshots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domesticity

**Author's Note:**

> Four Dan/Jones drabbles or short fics, either for booshbattle or boosh_shorts. They all have in common fluff and/or domesticity because I am a ridiculous human being. They could all be part of the same story, so I've done some minor editing and grouped them all here for your perusal. :)

1\. __  
  
It begins at the club. Jones feels a sudden wave of nausea and minutes later he's kneeling on the sticky floor of a toilet, vomiting up his entire dinner.  
  
Dan is the one to find him, of course.  
  
"What did you take?"  
  
"Nothing, fuck you," Jones gasps between dry heaves, squeezing his eyes shut.  
  
A pause, then, "Need help?"  
  
"No."  
  
Twenty minutes later, Dan half-carries him through his front door while Jones concentrates really hard on not puking on him. By three in the morning, Dan has helped him get changed and mopped up his sick twice. By five, Jones is curled up on the bathroom floor and refusing to move. Around six, he wakes to find a pillow under his face, and hears Dan whispering frantically on the phone.  
  
"I don't think so, it was early, he couldn't have been _that_ drunk. No. I don't _have_ a thermometer!"  
  
Jones drifts off again. When he wakes, it appears to be late-afternoon and he's in bed, and feels slightly more human. Dan is sitting at his typewriter, staring into space. There are several cups cluttering his desk and the ashtray is overflowing with cigarette butts.   
  
Jones drags himself out of bed with his duvet draped around his shoulders, and shuffles to stand behind Dan.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Dan shrugs and doesn't turn around. "Go take a shower, you're minging."  
  
Jones rolls his eyes and heads to the kitchen. Shower, yes, but sandwich first. He's _famished_.  
  
  
  
2.  
  
Jones has forgotten about winter. It's the only logical explanation as to why he'd be out on the streets in January wearing only a flimsy leather jacket, no gloves, no scarf, no hat. Dan eyes him sideways, zipping up his warm coat up to his chin. "What were you thinking, anyway? Have you forgotten this isn't the south of France?"  
  
Jones glances up at him miserably, flips him the middle finger, then shoves his hand back in his pocket and hunches up his shoulders, trying to protect his pale neck from the biting wind. He suddenly picks up the pace, probably to try and warm up a bit, and Dan has to jog a few steps to catch up with him again.  
  
"This is ridiculous. You'll go into hypothermia before we make it home."   
  
Jones doesn't look up, eyes fixed on the pavement, but Dan can hear his teeth clattering as he replies, "S'just a few streets down, I'll be fine." Dan rolls his eyes, grabs Jones's arm as they walk past the nearest coffee shop, and manhandles the DJ inside despite his protests.   
  
When Dan comes back to their table with two huge steaming mugs of tea, Jones doesn't look so miserable anymore. He gives Dan a sheepish smile while trying to rub some feeling back into his legs, muttering a word of thanks as Dan sits across from him and hands him a mug.  
  
"If you're going to go out half-naked in this weather, you should at least fatten up a bit. Get some proper insulation for the winter months."   
  
"Fuck off," Jones replies without malice, smiling at Dan and nudging his knee with his own under the table. He reaches one hand out for his mug, and the other across the table to wind his fingers with Dan's. They feel like icicles in his palm, but Dan doesn't mind.  
  
  
3\. 

"It's not fair. You've an advantage cause you’re a writer," Jones says, scowling as he stands to unzip his jeans. Dan is sitting on the floor, watching him strip off his trousers with an infuriating smile. He's still fully clothed except for one missing sock, and Jones should've known better than to agree to this. "What the fuck's an oolite?"

"It’s a kind of rock."

"As if."

"Care to check?" Dan says, sounding far too pleased with himself as he reaches for the dictionary.

"Forget it!"

He's already lost a boot and his t-shirt for calling bullshit on Dan's obscure words, and he's not going to make the same mistake again. He steps out of his jeans, naked but for his pants, and gingerly lowers himself back to the cold floor.

Jones manages to get Dan to remove his other sock with 'flute', but then it's Dan's turn again, and with 'louse', it's all over.

"Go on," Dan says, leaning back on his palms and smirking eagerly, "Off with 'em."

Jones stands up, trying to look annoyed. He kicks the board aside, sending little tiles flying, and stands over Dan with his hands on his hips.

"Why don’t _you_ take 'em off, genius?"  
  
  
4\. __

  
It's 5pm and Jones is navigating the familiar streets of his neighbourhood, swerving absentmindedly around other pedestrians without really registering their presence. He's got his huge headphones glued to his ears, one of his own mixes blaring through and blocking out the world around him. He's trying to concentrate on a particular loop he's working on, but the pangs of hunger in his stomach keep distracting him.  
  
He wonders if there's anything to eat in his refrigerator, but doubts it. He can't remember the last time he had dinner at home, or indeed the last time he ate at home full stop. There's a possibility that Dan may have bought some food, Jones thinks, then smirks to himself as he jogs up the few steps leading to his flat. _Yeah, fat chance of that happening._  
  
Dan has been particularly tetchy this past week. To be fair, tetchy seems to be Dan's default setting, but he's been worse than usual lately, snapping at Jones over nothing at all. Jones is a patient man, you've got to be when you're in a relationship with a misanthropic bastard, but he's had enough of walking on eggshells in his own home because of problems that Dan refuses to deal with. Last night, after a last failed attempt at getting Dan to talk to him instead of sulking, Jones finally snapped.  
  
"Listen mate, It's not my fault you hate your fucking job! Sort it out or leave me out of it, yeah? I'm going out."  
  
Dan was passed out on the sofa when he came home late at night, and was out by the time Jones woke up this morning, so they haven't had the chance to speak since.  
  
The light is on in the hallway, indicating that Dan is home. Jones kicks off his boots and pulls his headphones down around his neck, steeling himself for another confrontation. When he rounds the corner into the kitchen, he's hit with a fog of delicious cooking aromas, and the sharp remark he had prepared dies on his lips.  
  
Dan doesn't even look up from the counter where he's dicing vegetables. "I hope you like Thai," he says by way of greeting.  
  
Jones stands there in the doorway for a minute, staring. He feels like he should pinch himself, just to make sure he's not dreaming. Maybe he's so hungry that he's hallucinating? He doesn't think that his flat has ever smelled this heavenly before, and his stomach growls loudly in agreement.  
  
"I'd eat anything right now, but Thai sounds genius."  
  
He dumps his headphones onto the table and pulls himself a chair, sitting down facing Dan, still not sure he should believe his eyes.  
  
"I don't think I've ever seen you cook anything, unless you count bunging something in the microwave," he says, not bothering to hide the surprise in his voice.  
  
Dan shrugs and doesn't reply, but he catches Jones's eyes when he moves to scrape some vegetables from the cutting board into a simmering pot on the stove, and Jones knows that this is Dan's way of apologizing for acting like a right knob all week. Jones is okay with that. He leans back in his chair, watching Dan work.  
  
Dan is stirring a few pots, adding various ingredients, and occasionally glancing at a recipe that he appears to have printed off the internet. The paper is already wrinkled and covered in various stains and fingerprints from the many times he's had to consult it. He's clearly not a very experienced chef, fumbling a bit with dials and struggling to handle several pots at once, but there's a determined look in his eyes that makes Jones smile. Dan reaches into the fridge to pull out a couple of courgettes, and Jones catches a glimpse of newly stocked shelves; it appears that Dan has been shopping for more than just this meal.  
  
"Who are you, and what have you done with Dan Ashcroft?" Jones wonders aloud, and Dan startles at the sound of his voice, as though he'd forgotten that Jones was in the room. He finally smiles then, warm and slightly sheepish, and if Jones still has any annoyance left in him from yesterday's row, that smile is enough to melt it away completely.  
  
Dan moves back to the stove to lift the lid off of one of the pots, and a waft of peppers and spices fills the air. Jones suddenly remembers how famished he is and gets to his feet, shuffling to the stove to have a closer look. Dan grabs a wooden spoon, dips it inside the pot he's uncovered, and hands it to Jones.  
  
"You'd better be okay with spicy," he says, an eyebrow arched expectantly.  
  
Instead of taking the spoon, Jones wraps his fingers around Dan's wrist to hold it in place and stands up on tiptoes to close his lips around the end of the spoon in a deliberately suggestive manner. Dan's laugh is a throaty rumble, and the sound of it sends a pleasant little shiver down Jones's spine. The sauce is delicious, coconutty, and spicy enough to make his tongue tingle.  
  
"Hmm," he says appreciatively, licking his lips and releasing Dan's wrist, "You know I'm going to make you cook all the time now that I know about your hidden talent."  
  
"Don't get used to-..." Dan starts to reply, but Jones interrupts him by grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and kissing him. He can feel Dan smiling against his mouth, and he thinks that he can deal with Dan being a bit of a twat now and then, if this is going to be the fallout.


End file.
